Dead Wrong
by Zodiac32
Summary: Nick and Greg are called in to process the scene of a supposed hate crime. Something neither have an easy time dealing with, which in turn, takes a toll on their relationship. Can they save their love and solve the case? NickxGreg
1. Inconsistencies

Disclaimer: CSI and it's characters are the property of CBS, which means I still don't own them. But it would totally kickass if I did, right:)

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**Chapter One: Inconsistencies**

Another workday meant another glance into the mind of another broken human being. A psycho, a sicko, a loser; whatever the label, it was more than enough.

Because this case was different.

Nick stepped around the bodies, taking snapshots of anything and everything they could use as evidence. A shoeprint here, a food wrapper there. Fingerprints, fibers, blood spatter, it was all there and waiting to be cataloged. Hell, even the murder weapon was just lying on the coffee table when they reached the humble home of Mark and Jason Preston-Hughes.

The once bloody -and probably fingerprint riddled- knife wiped clean, of course.

It was obvious from the start that, in life these two men were deeply in love. There were numerous pictures of them together scattered throughout just the small living room alone; smiling, kissing, holding hands.

Greg's eyes scanned over a framed photograph of the couple in what appeared to be a Gay Pride parade, looking just as proud as they were happy. He sighed and sucked in a shaky breath as he turned back to the bodies lying in a pool of blood on the hard linoleum kitchen floor.

"Murdered in your own home. Isn't there anyplace safe anymore?" Greg pondered aloud, watching Nick collect a fiber from one of the victims pant legs.

Nick didn't answer.

"You suppose it was a hate crime?" The younger man asked his partner, looking at Nick with something akin to pity in his eyes.

The Texan finally sighed and looked up from his work. "Well, judging from the way the bodies are positioned and the total overkill use of the weapon… I'm gonna say yes. That, or a crime of passion."

"I was afraid of that." Greg whispered, sadly.

When they'd finished acquiring all the evidence they could and David had come to collect the bodies, Nick and Greg stepped out of the house, disturbingly placid from the outside; taking a sigh of relief as they moved out into the cool night air.

There was no crowd of nosy neighbors or passerby awaiting them like in most home invasion cases; only the coroners van, Nick's Tahoe, and a couple of police cars sat in front of the Preston-Hughes residence.

And something about that made Greg feel despondent. While it made their jobs infinitely easier not having to deal with a bunch of people trying to sneak a peek, Greg felt like this neighborhood didn't take too kindly to having a married gay couple around.

In that moment, his respect for humanity effectively dropped another rung.

Nick blew out a breathe he didn't realize he was holding and walked to the driver's side of his Tahoe, leaning against the door and looking up into the clear, velvety sky. They were far enough away from town to escape the too bright lights of Vegas to be able to see the millions of twinkling stars; but obviously not far enough away to escape the effects of ignorance.

_Not that it matters, prejudice is everywhere._ Nick thought wryly.

He heard a small noise and looked up in time to find Greg staring at him, the younger man's hand reaching out to stroke up and down Nick's arm at a slow, loving pace.

"Hey, you okay?" Greg asked, though he already knew the answer to his own question.

"I don't know. This is just… it's really shitty, ya know? The things people do to each other. I'm so sick of it." The dark haired CSI admitted weakly and grasped the hand that had been unconsciously wandering up and down his arm.

"I know, sweetie, I know." Greg whispered. "And that's exactly why we're here. To try and catch the bad guy."

It probably wasn't the best of places to be acting so familiar with each other, seeing how a couple of men were just murdered in their own home just for being themselves. Not to mention there were still one or two uniforms wandering around the perimeter of the house.

But Greg could see his boyfriend needed… _something_ right then. Some kind of contact.

Greg raised two fingers to his lips and kissed them gently, then pressed them to Nick's lips, holding them there for mere seconds before pulling away. And even that small gesture was enough to quell Nick's shivers for the moment.

"C'mon, we've cleared the place, let's get back to the lab. I'll drive."

And Nick didn't even put up a fight.

-- -- --

"What can you tell us about the vics, Doc?"

Doc Robbins shifted his crutch and walked around the examination table, the strange smell of disinfectant and death in the air making the two CSIs in the room cringe inwardly. "Your one vic, Mark Preston, was-"

"Preston-Hughes." Nick corrected the coroner, his face set in a grim line as he looked upon the Y-marked body of the middle-aged man on the cold, hard slab before him. Greg glanced surreptitiously around at his partner; it was just like Nick to get defensive of a victim, especially with a case so close to home as this.

"Right. Preston-_Hughes_," Doc started again. "It's pretty obvious this guy was the focus of an irrepressible rage; judging from the multiple stab wounds on the chest and abdomen," he pointed to the noticeable gashes along the corpse's body. "But his COD was actually blunt force trauma. All these lacerations were made post-mortem."

The air in the morgue changed at the revelation, going from hesitant and uncomfortable, to almost brooding in a sense. Both CSIs looked at each other with confusion in their eyes. The situation of overkill wasn't unheard of by any means, but the context in which this crime was committed was especially bothersome to the two men.

And there were so many inconsistencies within the case already, it was hard to form a convincing outline that included all aspects.

"What about the other one? His partner?"

"Jason Preston-Hughes', on the other hand, _was_ killed by multiple stab wounds to the chest and abdomen; about fifty-three to be exact." the rotund man sighed, moving around to stand beside victim number two, who was just as cold and lifeless as his partner, merely three feet away. "No blunt force trauma to the head, but there was some severe contusions on the left cheek. And I think you better take a look at this…"

Doc pulled back the sheet from the victim's carved body, exposing the dead man's lower half.

Nick let out a long breath as Greg shut his eyes to the sight. The tone in the room shifted once more, into a mood of pity and disgust. "Castrated." Nick murmured to the ground, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as the tension weighted itself upon his shoulders.

"Anti-mortem. He was still alive when the bastard did it." And even Doc winced at the thought, the usually stoic man shook his head and covered Jason Preston-Hughes' body once more before resuming his findings to his colleagues.

"I found this-" he handed Nick a clear, plastic evidence bag with a small, gold heart locket inside. "-around victim number one's neck. It's got something engraved on the back, but with all the caked on blood on it, I couldn't get a good look at what it says. Sorry."

Nick nodded, solemnly, and chanced a quick glance at Greg, who was still standing rigid, his head and eyes downcast, while his feet shuffled aimlessly against the hard tiled floor. The Texan knew what was going through his lover's mind, because it was the same thing that was going through his own mind.

Greg was angry, he was scared, but above all, he was confused. No matter how many times, or how many people told him not to get involved, not to show emotion for a case… he just would never be able to comprehend some of the things that went through a person's mind as they were murdering and mutilating another human being.

"Stomach contents showed nothing of real importance. Approximately, four ounces of red wine in both vics, some partially digested shellfish. Nothing to suggest they were drugged beforehand, but I've got a sample out to tox."

"They were celebrating something." Greg spoke up, seemingly snapped out of his haze for the moment; obvious only to Nick, his partner was thinking about their own upcoming four-year anniversary. And it broke his hear to see that look on his lover's handsome face.

Nick only nodded and thought back to the deceased couple's home. A bottle of Merlot and two wine glasses sat atop the kitchen table; he remembered bagging them.

"Other than all that, I don't really have any more information for you. But if I find anything, I'll let you know." Doc Robbins nodded and gave the warmest smile that he could muster in such a cold place; it made Greg wonder how the man could stand such an isolated profession.

"Thanks, Doc. Keep us posted."

TBC


	2. Staying Strong

**Chapter Two: Staying Strong**

After checking with Hodges on the fiber Nick found on Jason Preston-Hughes' pant leg, and coming up empty, Greg and Nick decided that clocking in for overtime tonight would be a far cry from what they needed and headed home.

But back at the townhouse, things weren't much better. In fact, the day just seemed to be progressively getting more out of hand from the moment the couple walked in the door and found that their usually docile cat, Tigger, had thought it would be entertaining to tear down the rather expensive sheer, white curtains hanging over the living room bay window; effectively ripping them to shreds.

"Damnit!" Greg cursed, while muttering something about the orange tabby who was laying on the couch, swishing his tail back and forth and looking pretty proud of himself.

"I told you…"

"Yes, I know, Nick," Greg interrupted as he began picking up shreds of the curtains scattered throughout the family room and stuffing them into a trashbag. "But I already explained to you why I didn't want to get him declawed. It's like amputating your fingers down to the first knuckle. How would _you_ like it?"

Nick shrugged and took a seat on the large leather sofa at the far end of the room, pinching the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to vanquish the impending migraine. Tigger mewed and trotted across the back of the couch to plop down beside his owner's head, rubbing against him lovingly.

"I'm not very happy with you right now, buddy." The Texan informed, but picked up the slightly overweight cat anyway and set him in his lap. "And if you think I'm mad… your Daddy's seriously pissed." he chuckled and stroked Tigger's soft, ginger fur with the palm of his hand, stopping only to scratch behind the feline's fuzzy pink ears.

Tigger purred happily and flipped around on his back, signaling it was time for a belly rub.

"I swear, that damn cat is more like a dog sometimes." Greg sighed and walked to the opposite end of the couch, settling down into the stiff material. He could feel his nerves calm a little more as the previous night's events started to dissipate from his mind and the proposition of sleep overtook his body. He was exhausted, not only physically but mentally as well. The job was draining, exceptionally more so than it was when he was in the lab.

Back then he wasn't directly exposed to the heinous occurrences that took place in the 'outside world'. Because his lab was safe, it was home; someplace he could trust and feel secure in. That is, until the explosion. And by that time, Greg knew he had to get out. That he couldn't stay cooped up in his once private panic room for the rest of his life.

But on days like this, Greg almost wished he'd never even passed that last proficiency test to become a CSI.

"Hey, you okay?" the familiar lilt of Nick's voice broke through the younger man's daydreaming and he snapped his head up to stare in the direction of it. "Kinda looked like you were in another world there for a minute."

"I'm good. Just… tired." Greg managed a weak smile to his partner.

Nick knew the case had gotten to Greg, hell it had gotten to him just as bad, and the whole extravaganza wasn't even half over yet. They still had so much work to do. Interviews, more results, possibly going back to the scene; they didn't even have a substantial lead, much less a suspect. And it wasn't like it was their only case, but it was high priority on the cases-to-be-solved-_now_ ladder.

But it wasn't just this particular investigation that was getting to them, Greg especially, had really started to feel the weight of the job pull him down as of late.

He may have seemed collected back when he'd whispered words of encouragement in front of the Preston-Hughes' once happy home, but Nick could hear the underlying waver in Greg's voice. The worry and concern, the fear, the confusion and every other damned depressing sentiment that came with being a Crime Scene Investigator.

"C'mon, let's get to bed. I've got a feeling it's going to be a long night tonight." The dark haired Texan stood and held out his hand for his partner to take, but Greg only waved it off, muttering a quick 'Don't remind me' as they walked to the bedroom and began sluggishly stripping off their clothes.

_As if I could forget._ The former DNA tech thought, his shoulders slumped visibly in the pale daylight that shined through the bedroom window, almost mocking the couples odd sleep schedule.

They climbed into bed, where Nick pulled the soft, down-filled comforter up over their bodies and leaned over to set a quick kiss to Greg's lips, trying his best to deepen it because it felt like so long since they'd truly, passionately kissed; but Greg was so distant and didn't even appear to notice.

The older man sighed and laid back down, not even attempting to curve his body around his lover's like he'd done almost every night since he and Greg moved in together three years earlier. Because being with someone for that long, getting to know their every move, every habit, and every feeling, Nick knew when Greg needed his space.

"Love you, baby." Nick whispered to Greg's back. But the exhausted man was already fast asleep.

_Tomorrow... we are definitely buying a scratching post._ Was the last thought on Nick's mind before he fell into a restless slumber.

-- -- --

The sweet sounds of a mellifluous, baritone voice could be heard above the aching silence throughout Nick's truck; which, when Greg was around, silence was usually very hard to come by and usually very welcome on Nick's part. But this time, it just seemed awkward.

"I'm sorry." Greg spoke suddenly, barely above a whisper. He was staring down into his lap, his hands fixedly clasped together over his chest as it rose with the steady inhale/exhale of his breath.

Nick glanced to his partner for only a second, not daring to take his eyes off the road for any longer length of time. "For what, baby?" he asked, reaching over to take Greg's shaky hand in his own, glad that the unbearable reticence was over for the moment.

"For last night, Nicky. I… I didn't even say I love you before we went to bed." And this time Greg looked up at his longtime lover, his eyes burning from tears of grief and frustration which refused to fall. "How awful am I? What if something were to happen to you, to us, in the middle of the night? How could I ever live with myself knowing I didn't say I love you if you were to…"

Unable to take the hurt in Greg's voice, Nick pulled off into a nearby parking lot and threw the truck into park. He quickly undid his safety belt and scooted across the seat to hold his trembling partner in his arms. "Shh… nothing's going to happen to me, sweetie. Or us." Nick whispered softly into Greg's sandy-blonde hair, stroking it in time to the younger man's racking breaths.

"I just…" Greg gulped in a lungful of air and let a few tears slip from sorrowful brown eyes. "I just love you so much, Nick. And I almost lost you once, I get so scared sometimes. I just keep thinking that could have been us on those slabs last night."

Greg wrapped his arms around Nick's neck and drew him closer, resting his head in the crook of the older man's shoulder. "… just feel so weak." he cried, the words muffled into Nick's shirt.

Nick pulled back from the desperate embrace and took Greg's face in his hands, guiding the other man's eyes to his. "Hey, look at me," he began, wiping a few stray tears away with the pads of his thumbs. "You are _not_ weak, Greg." Nick said softly, but sternly enough to make Greg inhale deeply at the tone. "Hell, you're the most strong-willed person I know, baby. Who was the one that was comforting me when I was freakin' out at the scene yesterday, huh?"

"M-me…"

"That's right. You." Nick smiled, that faint smile that made the little lines at the corners of his eyes crease slightly, the ones that Greg always thought made him look so much wiser beyond his years. "You stayed strong when I couldn't any longer. That's the way it's always been and it's not gonna change. This case, hell, this _job_… I know it's frustrating and scary, I know it hits close to home at times and drives ya crazy, but that's the way it is, honey. You just gotta stay tough. Okay?"

"Yeah," the puffy-eyed man sniffled and lifted his red-rimmed eyes to meet his partner's once more, a weak smile playing over his lips. "All I can do is try my best, right?"

The Texan pulled his lover into a tender embrace and kissed the back of Greg's neck where the younger's scars met the lining of his t-shirt. "That's all anyone asks for." he whispered into the raised, uneven skin.

-- -- --

Nearly six tiring hours into shift, no new leads were found on the Preston-Hughes double murder, but news of the abhorrence leaked into the media and Vegas' Gay & Lesbian community were not happy, to say the least.

_"We're doing all we can to find and convict the person responsible for this truly horrible act of violence,"_ the Detective announced into a good number of microphones perched atop the podium overlooking news cameras from various TV stations._"Until then, out sincerest condolences go out to the victims families and… "_

The break room television went silent as Greg walked in; he needed caffeine and he needed it _now_. "Was that Cramers giving a conference on our case?" he asked, taking a sip of his lukewarm coffee.

"Yeah, GLBT isn't too pleased with the way the police are handling it, apparently. They say the cops are taking their 'sweet time' about finding the guy who did it 'cuz the victims were gay. Claiming discrimination." Sara answered her friend, who was currently staring into his cup of liquid caffeine, trying to decide whether or not his stomach could handle the rest.

He concluded it couldn't and set the mug on the counter behind him. Sighing deeply he said, "Nick and I are doing all we can with what evidence we have. But as of right now, everything is just tracing back to the victims. Not so much as a fingerprint from another person was lifted from that crime scene." Greg took a seat next to his fellow investigator and continued. "And this case is just fucking full of discrepancies. We can't even piece together a proper timeline at the moment."

"I know, Greg." The brown haired woman said softly, setting her hand on Greg's and smiling her sweet gap-toothed smile. "You're a good CSI, and so is Nick. You'll figure this out. Just don't let anything stand in your way."

When Greg looked up, he could see the subtle ferocity hiding behind Sara's eyes. The thing that inspired him out of his self-deprecating funk every time he talked to his friend about wanting to give up; something of which he was grateful for.

The lopsided grin returned to Greg's face and he felt the hardness in his stomach disappear for the time being, knowing it wouldn't be the last time he felt it.

Just then, Nick came bounding into the break room, looking for all the world like he could burst out either cheering or cursing at any given moment.

"Greg," he addressed, pointing to his partner and giving Sara a sideways glance. "Brass needs us in interview. A friend of the vics has just come forward with some information."

Suddenly, Greg looked as excited as Nick felt. "We may have our lead."

TBC

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A/N: Next chapter, Nick talks to the friend of the vics and learns some important information on one of the decedent's past. Should be interesting, no? Maybe we'll even learn a little more about that locket. Stay tuned and thanks for reading:) 


	3. The Lovely Miss Lovely

**Chapter Three: The Lovely Miss. Lovely**

The interrogation room was empty, save for a slim, effeminate man with long blonde hair and large fake breasts, sitting at the small table in the middle of the chamber. He was wearing a slinky, black cocktail dress, heavy make-up and clear high-heel shoes that looked as though he shouldn't be able to walk in them for more than two seconds without falling flat on his face.

"Shane Ottis, a.k.a Miss. Lana Lovely." Brass smirked behind the two-way mirror overseeing the room and it's occupant. "He… she… says there's some things about one of our victims you should know if you want to solve this case. Wouldn't say exactly what, though. Just requested to talk to the guys who are heading this investigation."

"That would be us." Nick mused, crossing his arms in front of his chest and taking a step toward the glass window; suddenly having a flashback to when he and Grissom visited a transsexual night club looking for a suspect.

Greg turned from the door to his partner, indicating to the other with a slight nod. "Right. So, get on in there, Tex. We don't got all day!" he chirped, obviously anxious to finally have a potential break in their case. "Go work your charm."

"But try not to charm him too much," Brass chimed in with a wink, being his usual witty self. "We don't need another overly enthusiastic President of the Nicky Stokes fan club. This one's enough." he pointed to Greg with a teasing grin.

"Jealous much?" Greg muttered, sticking his tongue out at the Detective, who pretended to be writing something down in his notepad and didn't even give the sandy-blonde haired man the satisfaction of looking up.

It wasn't as if nobody around work knew Nick and Greg were a serious couple; but the ones who did know were among a select few. Grissom, of course knew, as did Sara, Warrick, Catherine and a couple of the lab rats. Brass, on the other hand… Nick couldn't decide if the older man finally came to the not-so-shocking conclusion or if he was actually referring to Greg's overly obvious attempts to impress Nick at work.

Deciding to forget the ordeal for now, Nick proceeded into the interview room, two cups of coffee in hand and a list of mounting questions in his head.

-- -- --

"Mister Ottis-"

"Please, call me Lana," the gender-challenged male said, smiling sweetly at the hunky Texan sitting across from her. Oh, and he was gay too! How did one tranny get so lucky? "That's my stage name. I prefer to be referred to as a woman."

Nick smiled and set a cup of coffee down in front of his companion, who immediately took it and sipped earnestly. "Lana, you requested to speak with the person heading the investigation of your friends deaths and that would be me. My name is Nick Stokes and I'm a CSI here at the crime lab." he spoke softly but sternly, just as he had with Greg earlier in the truck. But Nick felt that getting this person to open up to him would not be all that difficult; after all, she came to them.

"First off, let me say that I'm very sorry for your loss and that my partner and I are doing everything in our power to bring your friends murder to justice."

"Thank you, Mr. Stokes." Lana frowned slightly and took a Kleenex from her purse, dabbing her eyes dramatically before giving an affected little sniffle. "I can't begin to tell you how much I miss them."

"I'm sure, ma'am." Nick said, politely. He was starting to wonder just how much of this 'lady's' story he was going to believe. But ever being the optimist, Nick carried on. "How is it that you came to know about the Preston-Hughes' murder?"

"Can you believe I had to hear it from over the television?" She scoffed into her tissue; long, painted fingernails caught the light above the table and made the nail polish sparkle vibrant hues against Lana's pale skin. "I was simply devastated when I heard! Mark and Jason were like family to me."

Nick simply nodded and let her continue.

"They used to come to the club where I dance, that's how we met. Well, actually, Mark started out coming with his ex, Jeremy Shoren, about eight years ago. But they broke up when Jeremy was sent to prison for attemped rape or somethin'" Lana explained. "That's when Jason and Mark got together."

"Hmm… so this ex-boyfriend of Mark's, not a nice guy, huh?" Nick inquired. Something was starting to click.

"Exactly! That's what I came to tell you. Jeremy was just released from jail a little over six months ago. A while back, Mark told me he had an inkling feeling that Jeremy was watching him, possibly stalking him and Jason." The distraught Miss. Lovely pressed on in a hurry, catching the hopeful look in Nick's eyes.

"Do you know if either Mark or Jason tried to contact the authorities about Mr. Shoren?" Nick asked, already knowing the answer. He hadn't seen any sort of complaint or court order against a Jeremy Shoren as far as his vics were involved.

Lana rolled her mascara tipped eyes and set her hands flat on the table. "Are you kidding? In case you haven't noticed, the cops around here aren't exactly queer-friendly." She blew out a sigh of indignation. "You should know, Mr. Stokes. I can only imagine how they treat you, and you're in the business."

"Pardon me? I… I'm not sure I know what you mean." The Texan cleared his throat and averted his eyes from the knowing smile across the table.

"Oh, come now, Mr. Stokes. I could tell from the moment you set foot in this room. I have stellar gaydar, love. You can't fool me." The melodramatic dancer grinned triumphantly and set back in her chair, crossing her arms over her buxom chest as she contemplated what was going through the other man's mind.

Nick was not expecting this. Only a minute ago they were talking about a very big, very potential lead in his double-homicide case and now… what the hell just happened? He could almost hear Greg and Brass laughing from behind the glass.

"Uhm… Miss. Lana, if we could please get back to the discussion at hand," he smiled, doing his best to charm the conversation in another direction completely. "Do you know where we might be able to find Mr. Shoren, possibly?"

Lana seemed to think about that question for a moment before answering, "You know what? I think I saw him at my club the other night." She nodded at the sudden memory. "Yeah, he was tryin' to pay some floozy S&M wannabe for a lapdance... in change! That guy was always such a sleezebag. I don't doubt for a second that he killed Mark and Jase."

"Would you be willing to call us if he visits your place of employment again?" Nick asked and handed the blonde his card.

"Absolutely. Anything to help put that bastard away for good." Lana nodded enthusiastically, her chandalier earrings swinging back and forth from her head.

Nick nodded and stored the information away in his brain for later use. "Thank you, ma'am. Just one more question," he said and pulled out a clear, plastic evidence bag from his jacket pocket, handing it to Lana. "Do you recognize this locket?"

"Yes! This was Mark's locket. See? It says 'J+M' on the back. Jason had a matching one, but his said 'M+J'. They never took them off. Where did you find this?" She asked all in one breath.

"It was around Mark's neck when we found him. But… our corner checked, and Jason wasn't wearing any jewelry when he arrived. Are you sure he didn't misplace it or take it off and forget to put it back on?"

"I'm sure as day, Mr. Stokes. They loved each other more than anything, and since gay marriage isn't recognized in this state, those lockets were sort of like their wedding bands. Understand?" She took a breathe before adding. "I'm willing to bet my life that if you find Jeremy 'Asshole' Shoren… you'll find Jase's locket. He was ever the jealous type, too."

He let all the new information sink in and start to develop as he stood, giving the standard, 'Thank you for all your help. We'll call you if we find any new developments or have anymore questions.' before showing Lana the way out.

Before they reached the door, Lana turned back and smiled a genuine smile at Nick. "You're a very brave man, Mr. Stokes. To be who you are in a place like this. I sure as hell couldn't do it."

And with that, she was gone.

TBC

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A/N: Remember, reviews are love. So leave some love:) 


	4. Stress Less

**Chapter Four: Stress Less**

An entire two weeks passed without much to-do on the Preston-Hughes homicide. If the police hadn't put in much of an effort to begin with -even after the impromptu press conference was held- by now they were being just plain lazy. Media coverage died down to almost non-existent, and even the protestors outside the crime lab stopped showing up after day ten of no big break-throughs. The case was simply considered old news in the fast paced microcosm that is Las Vegas.

In fact, the only people that even seemed to care about the late Mark and Jason Preston-Hughes was Nick and Greg.

And because they cared so much about finding the killer of these innocent men, ultimately, their four-year anniversary came and went without much event, as well. But it wasn't completely by personal choice that their anniversary was a total bust; because they tried, they really did try to do _something_ that night, but everything just turned out wrong.

First, Greg couldn't find the right candles for the romantic dinner he'd planned to make for himself and Nick, so he was upset that he had to settle for some cheap tealites his cousin had sent him when he graduated from college.

Eight years ago.

Then, Nick was too tired when he got home from pulling a double at work to do anything more than grab a plateful of food, set a quick peck to Greg's cheek and head off to crash in front of the TV without so much as saying boo to his partner.

So much for fancy candles.

After that, the night just seemed to get progressively worse and worse, to the point where when Nick woke up enough to even be in the mood, in the end he couldn't keep it up long enough to do any good. Which only left Greg pissed, unsatisfied, and feeling like an all around failure. Not only because he wasn't able to make their four-year anniversary into the great, romantic evening he had planned, but because he and Nick hadn't had sex since they received this damn case.

And while a sexless Nick could be a bear to live with, a sexless Greg was a depressed, whiney Greg. And even more of a bear to live with.

What was worse, Lana hadn't even called like she said she would in case Shoren showed up to the club she worked at. Which meant he'd either skipped town, knowing he'd be brought in for questioning, or he'd found a new place to hang out and get his rocks off. Vegas was a big town with lots of places to go, after all. They hoped it was the latter.

Nick had pulled up Jeremy Shoren's criminal files as soon as he got the order to do so, which was about an hour and a half after Miss. Lana Lovely had left the station. Indeed, Shoren's record confirmed Lana's story.

He was convicted of attempted rape and sentenced to a ten year prison term, but was let out after only eight years in the slammer after some new evidence came to light that left the court with reasonable doubt. Plus, he was up for parole in only a month, which his lawyer was sure he'd get. Good behavior and all. Interestingly enough, Shoren's last known residence turned out to be only three and a half miles down the road from Mark and Jason's house.

Lana's story had started to look pretty damn convincing to the exhausted CSIs. And at that point, all they really wanted to do was close this godforsaken case and get on with their lives. But as luck would have it, what Nick and Greg wanted, just wasn't in the cards and the two weeks dragged on like a bad nightmare.

-- -- --

"Do you know we haven't had sex in like… two and a half _weeks_?" Greg grumbled to his best friend, his head in his hands and his heart in the gutter. He felt like crying. "I mean, since Nick an I got together, I didn't even know what it was like to go without sex for more than two days. But over two weeks? Forget about it."

"Well, you're both under a ton of stress. That's bound to screw with anyone's libido. Including yours, Casanova." Sara grinned from across the break room table, picking up her sandwich and taking a bite before adding, "Have you tried acupuncture? I hear it's good for… getting the blood flowing and… stuff."

"At this point, I'm willing to try anything. Including getting hundreds of little needles stuck in me. Just so long as I'm willing, ready and able to go when he is. Because it always seems like when I'm in the mood, he's not, and when he's in the mood…" Greg sighed deeply, the pain and frustration becoming more and more evident in his voice. "I don't know anymore, Sara. I just don't want to lose him." he concluded.

The brown haired woman frowned sympathetically and reached across the table to pat her discouraged friend's hand. "Maybe it's time you two took a little break from work. You and Nick have got some vacation days saved up, right?"

"Yeah, but Griss will never-"

"But nothing, Greg. Don't worry, I'll talk to Grissom. You just start planning out what you and loverboy are gonna do with your time off. Okay?" The veteran CSI flashed her famous gap-toothed smile and all of a sudden, Greg really believed she could do anything she said she could; including getting their boss to give he and Nick time off together.

"Thanks, Sara. You really are a lifesaver." Greg whispered, his heart finally starting to find it's way back to where it belonged.

-- -- --

Sara made good on her promise; after which, Greg immediately decided to never, ever doubt a woman's power of seduction or persuasion ever again. And then he actually thought about Sara seducing Grissom, which only caused him to want to give his brain a bath in bleach.

In other words, he was pretty grossed out.

But thanks to Sara and her 'bring it on' attitude, Greg and Nick were granted a whole five days to themselves. Free to spend it anyway they liked, far from case files and test results, suspects and murder convictions, the gore and the heartache; and they intended to take full advantage of it.

"This is great, G." Nick proclaimed as he settled himself into the large Jacuzzi style tub, complete with the jets turned to high and champagne chilling in a cooler beside them on the edge of the spa. "It's heaven."

"I thought you might enjoy it." The younger man giggled, stepping into the whirlpool and immediately snuggling into his partner's open arms.

For their mini vacation, Greg decided to rent a room at a fairly extravagant hotel on the strip. But since they could only really afford two days living in the lap of luxury, they would be leaving for home after that. Which was totally fine with Greg, because he was pretty sure that was long enough to spend some quality time with the love of his life. And by quality time, he of course meant having hot, sweaty, animalistic, mind-blowing sex.

"How didja ever convince Griss to give us time off together?"

"Oh, c'mon now, Nicky. A guy can't give away all his secrets, now can he?"

Nick smiled and pressed his lips to Greg's, initiating a slow, sensual kiss. Greg felt his lover lick at his bottom lip and granted him entrance, opening his mouth to the familiar taste of mint and something he could only describe as uniquely Nicholas Stokes.

When they finally broke apart to breathe, the Texan actually _growled_ into Greg's mouth. Which Greg, of course, took as a signal to kiss him again. And so, the playful growling and placating kisses continued until both men were panting heavily, their bodies becoming increasingly more aroused with every harsh breath.

"B-bedroom?" Greg gasped.

"Yes, _please_. And hurry." Nick answered without hesitation.

-- -- --

"God, that was fucking…" Greg panted against Nick's sweat slick shoulder as the older man slipped out of his body and collapsed on top of him. "Shit, you know what? I'm speechless. For once in my life, I cannot even describe in words how good the sex was."

It took all the energy Nick could muster just to smirk and say, "Maybe we should make a habit out of abstaining for a couple weeks at a time. If it's gonna be that good when we finally do it."

"Don't even fucking _kid_ about something like that." Greg shot his partner a look of pure venom, but swatted at his bare-ass playfully. "Seriously, I was really worried that whole time we were all… acting crazy like that, ya know?" he trailed his fingertips up and down Nick's back, lost in the comfort of the man's body blanketed over him. For the first time in weeks, Greg felt safe and whole again.

"Me, too, baby. And I'm sorry I turned our anniversary night into a real shitfest." Nick sighed, eventually lifting himself off of Greg when he heard the younger start to whimper under his weight. "I know how hard you tried to make it special."

Greg thought back to the hellish night in question and it made him visibly shudder, which in turn, made Nick chuckle and tighten his hold on the other man. "That bad, huh?"

"Yeah, it was pretty terrible, though I think you've more than made up for it tonight. But don't expect me to leave your ass alone for the rest of the time we have off." Greg said sternly. "No, siree. I'm gonna make sure you get your exercise in this week, Cowboy. Lots of cardio."

Nick nibbled a patch of skin on Greg's neck and mumbled a teasing, "Is that a threat?"

"Mmm... more like a promise." Greg replied with a grin and a buck of his hips. "Giddyup, pardner."

* * *

A/N: I know this chapter kinda strayed from the original storyline, but believe me, I had to do it for my own sanity. I'm not used to writing casefile based fics and it was all starting to get jumbled in my head. I had to let the boys play a little, if only to lighten the mood and get my brain back on track. Understand?

Next chapter it's back to the case and Nick finally gets a call from Lana. Should get messy. Cool. Now leave some love:)


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